Harry Potter: The Hidden Pages
by porpierita
Summary: Fred and George survive, Snape and Dumbledore involved, and another Trelawney prophecy. Including an Epilogue to top it all off. Draco Malfoy marries a partveela, the twins hook up with some partveelas, and once more, Dumbledore has planned it all. R & R
1. Awakening

**The Hidden Pages**

_**By porpierita**_

**A/N: For those of you who read my usual fics, you'll know that I've been writing this fic!**

**Yuppers, that's right! It's here, the fic where Fred **_**survives**_**. And a little other stuff I added to make the ending a bit more satisfactory. I mean, for me, it wasn't enough. I wrote a fic on Fred's death, now I need to make on where he survives.**

**A three-shot, and the next two chappies will be up in a while! This fic comes before the Epilogue **_**Nineteen Years Later**_** in Deathly Hallows, but after everything else.**

**Sorry for the title, couldn't think of anything else. May be a bit cheesy, but hey, it's the story that counts right?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company don't belong to me. JKR owns them. People, if I owned them, I'd be the billionaire, not JKR!**

**I mean it's on this site. Called fanfiction? Wouldn't be on this site if they were mine!**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exited out of Dumbledore's office, to which the next headmaster would be appointed to stay. Frankly, Harry felt that no other headmaster could've done more to Hogwarts than Dumbledore had. Whether it had been to improve it, change it, or just essentially affected the school, it was impossible.

The man with the crooked nose had won his place in history, even if little people knew the true story of his life. Harry promised himself that if he were to change one thing in the wizarding world, it would be to make sure Dumbledore was remembered as the right man he was, the one who sacrificed everything for _the greater good._

Re-entering the Great Hall, the Golden Trio trudged over towards the Weasleys, who were stood, crowded around what was Fred's form on a wheeled bed. All the bodies were being taken out on separate mattresses to be dealt with. The families of the deceased would get to choose whether to cremate, bury, or decide how to finally make the troubled souls rest in peace. Tonks and Lupin were already gone.

As they approached the mourning family, Harry could see Mrs. Weasley was still sobbing hysterically, even with her victory and the death of Bellatrix Lestrange. Crying silently into her mother's shoulder, Ginny's clothes were torn and shredded, where jinxes and hexes had blasted them apart, revealing her pale skin. Harry fought the urge to run over and comfort her, telling her not to waste any more tears than she already had. But he felt like an outsider. That he should not really intrude upon their privacy and their loss.

Mr. Weasley could be seen with tear streaks down his face, where his skin appeared behind the grit and dirt, which concealed everything else. His glasses were fogged up, perched lopsidedly on his nose. Under the dim moonlight emitted from the enchanted ceiling, and the pale light from the floating candles, he looked as old as ever, and so very _weary._

Lastly, Harry noticed George, slumped over a chair at his twin's head, staring grimly towards the freckled face that so much resembled his own, minus the tears. His hands were rested on Fred's arms, gripping him loosely as if he had no will left in him. His face miserable, looking even more dead than his twin, whose eyes had been closed, and whose face's laughter had finally died.

Harry could not fathom how much pain the family must be in, let alone George. To have a half of him ripped apart…a segment of his _soul_. They were the support of each other, the Weasley twins…who were no more. George would have to make the jokes on his own, invent the next merchandise of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on his own, conjure more laughs on his own…though there was no laughter left in them anyways. Even with the defeat and downfall of Voldemort. It was worse, that George had lost an ear, and now had lost a brother. Harry knew that people who had just met the twins would think them alike—the same—with no difference whatsoever. Clones…_replicas_…of one another. But behind the freckles and the façade of laughter, Harry knew that Fred and George weren't exactly the same. Sure, they shared the love for mischief and fun, but to a certain extent, they _were_ different in some ways.

Fred Weasley was the most exuberant of the pair. His outgoing, daring, behavior made him charge forwards without really thinking. Taking actions, risking everything. More brash, self-confident, and dominant than his twin—which was to be expected of him, for he was the older one of the pair.

George, on the other hand, was the more passive. Instead of dashing forwards without caring like Fred, George was the one who made sure he knew where he was going, and that nothing was going to get in his way. Harry still recalled his hesitant behavior when blackmailing Ludo Bagman.

How could they kill one twin, the more confident one, and leave the sensitive behind, to cry over the brother he would never see laugh again? Even at the end of Voldemort, Riddle still maintained the level of aggression and capability of destroying the Weasleys, the only family Harry had really felt at home with.

And speaking of the Weasleys…

Harry looked around him, searching for Bill, Charlie, and Percy. They were nowhere to be found. Harry expected them to be here somewhere, mourning over the death of Fred. Or perhaps they were helping with the moving of the bodies. Searchers were being sent out to look for any corpses that hadn't been noticed. Voldemort was still trouble, even if he was gone and truly dead.

"Mum," Ron spoke, tearing his gaze away from Fred's calm face. "Where're the others? Like, Charlie, Bill, and Perce?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up, tears still pouring out of her eyes. She patted them with her sleeves. "Oh…I don't know," she looked around worriedly for a moment. "Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley took a quick glance around as well, but did not linger too long. "Don't worry about Bill, I've spoken to him already. He's off to take care of Fleur first, make sure she's alright. And Charlie's with Hagrid, apparently watching the animals and looking after the injured," Mr. Weasley nodded approvingly.

"Where's Percy?" Ron turned his head to peer around the Great Hall. "I haven't seen him since he ran off after Rookwood…" he gulped. Uneasy gazes were cast among them. No need to say more.

Percy had been trying to avenge Fred, Harry knew and remembered, but he also didn't recall seeing him afterwards. He shuddered, not daring to think what had happened to the only-just-rejoined Weasley.

"Oh, I'm sure he's alright," Mrs. Weasley whispered. "He's probably at the Ministry, checking and running over to smooth things over. What with the deaths and Imperiused ones and…you know how he is, always wondering about work."

Ron didn't seem to be reassured. And neither did the others, although Mr. Weasley let out a hollow laugh. "Yes, yes, no need to worry. Everyone knows Perce and his work obsession." He waved a shaky hand as if to dismiss the subject.

Ron and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks.

The atmosphere was tense, all waiting for news of what to do next, and the safety of their friends and family. People were scuttling about, either levitating the injured or carting the bodies instead as a sign of respect. Madam Pomfrey was patching up a few students, and Harry saw many of the DA members hurt, but alive. He didn't dare look anywhere else, incase he saw another pair of eyes stare up at him…blank, expressionless, and glazed over. He couldn't bare to think of who else had died.

"M-Mum…" came George's shaky voice. "Mum, Dad, you've got to come see this…I…"

Harry was glad to have something to do. It helped distract him from all the sadness looming everywhere. He focused his attention back to the Weasleys.

"_What_?" Mrs. Weasley spun around. "If you don't think we've got enough going on to worry about, what with all the…" her voice trailed off as she stared, wide eyed. "Oh my heavens…" She gaped speechlessly, whilst the others looked inquisitively at her, then followed her gaze.

Gasps surrounded.

Fred's body, which before was so still upon the bed, had started twitching. His hands at first, jerking slightly, then his arms, tendons and muscles flexing and stretching, moving as if he were a puppet on strings. Steam rose up from his pores, wetting his robes slightly. He seemed to be heating up, but shaking and vibrating at the same time. Harry heard Hermione draw a quick intake of breath, as the rest of them stared, transfixed, at Fred's quivering body.

His eyelids fluttered, but did not open. His hair seemed to be having an electric shock sent through each follicle, and it stood up on its end, giving him the appearance of a Lee Jordan without the dreadlocks. Or perhaps like Tonks, minus the pink. They looked gelled up into individual spikes.

Fred's mouth trembled, then open and closed, uttering random sounds, which made no sense. His body shook violently now, moving the bed along with it. Ron gripped it still, for the wheels had started to roll about. Then at last, with a final shudder, Fred's body slumped back, motionless once more.

They stared at each other, eyes wide in shock and horror.

"He's not becoming an Inferi, is he?" Ron choked, starting to freak out.

"Don't be silly," Hermione scowled. Then her eyes sparkled slightly. "…It's…oh, I don't believe it. He's got the symptoms of…but it _can't _be. It simply _can't be_!" Hermione was talking to herself, ignoring Ron completely. "Shaking, shuddering, the body's running systematic checks…" she muttered to herself. "Oh goodness, it cannot be!"

And then, all of a sudden, Hermione shoved George roughly aside and launched herself at Fred.

"Fred! Fred!" she exclaimed. Then, to Mrs. Weasley's eternal surprise and horror—started to shake him by his collar. When Fred showed no signs of movement, she grabbed his shoulders, shaking him even harder.

"Hermione!" Ron threw himself at her and dragged the protesting girl away from his brother. "Hermione! He's gone…there's nothing you can do to bring back the dead. Dumbledore's been telling us all along! If they're dead—"

"He—is—not—_dead_!" she fought Ron all the way. "I know he isn't!" Hermione struggled, itching to get out of Ron's iron grasp on her waist. She clawed at his hands. "Ronald—Weasley—let—me—_go_!" she snarled.

As if on queue, Fred's eyes fluttered open, staring, his pupils contracting at the enchanted sky above him. They were ghostly, but a glisten of life seemed to appear in them for a second or two. He remained motionless, still staring above.

Everyone froze again. Even Hermione forgot to get out of Ron's hold on her, which had slackened.

Then Mrs. Weasley broke the silence.

"FRED!" she shrieked, running over to him. "Fred! Oh heavens, Fred! You're—!" then she paused, her gaze suddenly turning accusing upon her son. Her tone switched to harsh, anger spilling into her voice.

"FREDERICK WEASLEY!" she screamed, grasping his shoulders just as Hermione had done. But she pulled him up into a sitting position and started to shake him violently, so that his head lolled back and forth. "IF THIS IS ONE OF YOUR JOKES, I SWEAR, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU NOW—!"

"Mum!" George dragged Mrs. Weasley away from her son, whose eyes had started to contract once more, and had flopped down onto the bed again. "Mum! Chill! If you do that, he might really end up dead for real!" George panted.

Mrs. Weasley rounded on him instead.

"GOOD FOR HIM!" she yelled. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then bulged. "WERE YOU IN ON THIS TOO? WHEN WILL YOU EVER LEARN THAT THIS IS NOT SOMETHING TO JOKE ABOUT?" She seemed ready to explode. "ALWAYS COMPLETELY IRRESPON—"

"—Mum…?" George's voice croaked out. Except that it wasn't George who spoke, but Fred. He had sat up groggily. No one had noticed, too busy staring at Mrs. Weasley and her previous outburst. "Mum? I…urgh…" Fred slumped back onto his pillow, rubbing his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley stood still, as if the shock of it was overwhelming. The silence was deafening, and someone could've sliced through the tension with a knife. Harry stared at Fred, who had removed his hands from his eyes, staring quizzically at all of them.

"Fred!" his mother squealed, and hurled over to embrace her son in a suffocating hug, sobbing endlessly. "Oh _Frederick_…oh…what would have happened if you died? I couldn't bare it a second time…"

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, 'a second time'; all he knew was that Fred was not dead. _Fred Weasley was not dead._

But how could it be?

_Dumbledore always said you couldn't bring someone back from the dead…I would've brought Sirius back…is this one of his lies again?_ Harry felt the rage eat him up inside. Once more, this was another of Dumbledore's fibs…Dumbledore's _lies._ Twisted, knotted, in a web of deceit.

He watched as the Weasleys gathered into a group hug, with a bemused Fred, still apparently confused of what had happened to him. He felt the anger melt away momentarily. The sight of all of them happy again, especially Ginny, took his breath away.

"But you weren't breathing!" Ginny sobbed into her brother's shoulder. "You were completely still…no heartbeat either!"

"How come you were brought back, mate?" George cried. "How could you trick _me_, of all people?"

Stood aside, Hermione was the only one who was silent and smiling. Once all of them had stopped the hugging (Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were wiping their eyes) and began to grin clumsily, Hermione eventually spoke.

"Don't you see?" she said quietly, once the sobs had subsided. "He was never dead…it was…the Draught of the Living Death." She turned to Harry. "Remember?"

And suddenly, Harry was brought back with the memory of his first Potions lesson with the now-deceased Snape. _For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death…_

"Of course!" He smacked himself with his hand, hitting his scar, which hurt no more. "Snape mentioned it in our first Potions class!"

Hermione's eyes gleamed. "Yes. _And_ we made it with Slughorn last year. I recognized the symptoms immediately, a person who has had the Draught of the Living Death bestowed upon them! Of course, I read further about it in our First Year, for Snape had mentioned it…stuff we didn't even cover in the sixth-year N.E.W.T. Potions class!"

Hermione babbled so quickly, that the others stared at her, bewildered. Only Harry seemed to understand.

She turned to Fred. "Who gave you that Draught? And why didn't you tell us?"

Fred still looked confused. "Well…I don't know…I didn't drink it on purpose…I didn't drink anything really, before the battle. Only pumpkin juice from the house elves, and a glass of water beforehand…" he ticked them off with his fingers. "Aw yeah, some of the new products' antidotes from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The new, unreleased, Stomach Soreness in fact. And some sherry from Trelawney, after that. Well, she _said_ it was sherry, but it tasted and looked like water…trying to trick me, that old fraud."

Harry scrunched up his nose. Why in Merlin's name would Fred agree to drink Professor Trelawney's sherry anyways? Probably for a joke. Harry shook his head silently, sighing. He lifted his head up, to see Hermione frowning.

Fred put on a high shaky voice, rasping, "_The Inner Eye tells me that you, with red hair and a weasel linked to your name, must be born, somewhere at Christmas, correct?_" he looked incredulously at George. "God, Christmas? Erm, try Aprils Fool's Day, you old hag. And what's it got to do with a weasel? Why didn't she say…reindeer or something?" His twin laughed heartily.

"What?" Ron asked Hermione, the glee obvious in his voice. "Why are you still stressed, when Fred is alive?" Then Ron frowned too. He placed a hand on Hermione's arm. "Hermione? Er…Hermione? Earth to Hermione…?"

The joy was gone, his expression replaced with concern. Ron waved a hand in front of Hermione's face. She snapped back to reality.

"Ron, it can't be the Draught of the Living Death. I mean, it reacts instantly, how could he have drank it just as the wall exploded? The Draught can't _prescribe_ when a person will fall asleep. It wouldn't work. It's immediate…" she trailed off, the creases in her forehead deepening. "Unless…unless it reacted with something else." Hermione scratched her chin thoughtfully, gazing far away, her eyes not really seeing. Then she focused on them again. "I'm thinking…that well, it mixed with something. To create this. It mixed with…"

She was mumbling to herself again. Even Harry didn't really understand her this time. He exchanged glances with Ron, who shrugged back.

"The antidote the twins created for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They reacted together. It wasn't the pumpkin juice, for it's too common. That scenario could've already happened. Previous takers of the Draught, drinking pumpkin juice beforehand, and not falling asleep. No, it would've been noticed. Water's a neutralizer, and common as well, so that wouldn't work."

"What?" Ron said. "Lemme get this straight. So one of the antidotes the twins created for their jokes and the Draught mixed together, thus causing some effect for the drinker to fall asleep instead when something exploded on them, and not die?"

Hermione nodded. "Basically, yes. It couldn't've protected them from jinxes and curses too, for Fred or Percy would've noticed in the Battle. So I think, just for explosions…" her frown deepened. "But who gave him the Draught in the first place?"

Ron looked at Harry inquisitely, but Harry just gave a look that said _What mattered? Fred was alive. Who cares what had happened?_

They turned back to Hermione, who was still muttering.

"Draught of the Living Death…Draught of the Living Death…potion ingredients includes valerian roots…sophorus beans…releases blue steam…halfway stage equals blackcurrant colour…light lilac…what happens after that? Oh yes, then it turns clear as water…clear as water…_ clear as water!_" she spun around. "That's it! Guys! Professor Trelawney gave Fred the Draught of the Living Death!"

Hermione's eyes were bright, and she stared at Fred and George, who were giggling at some joke. No one was listening to her, except for Harry and Ron. The rest of them were still chatting happily at Fred's lucky escape.

Ron looked skeptical. "Yeah, but why the hell did she give it to him? She wouldn't know the reason, let alone _how_ to brew the potion."

"Hm…she could've gotten it from Snape…he's the Potions Master…"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What, just stroll in and ask for it? 'Yo, Prof. Snapey, I need a bottle of the Draught of the Living Death. Care to share?' I doubt Snape would give it. He's headmaster too, remember? And Slughorn's Potions guy now."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about 'immature git'. She sighed. "Right, so all we know now, is that Fred drank the antidote to the Stomach Sores, then he drank the Draught—supposedly from Trelawney—and they reacted to stop him from dying and made him fall asleep like the usual Draught of the Living Death when the wall exploded." She stared at them. "You know what's easiest to do right now: Go and ask Trelawney."

Ron chuckled. "Right…go and ask Trelawney."

"I don't see _you_ having a better idea, Weasley," Hermione snapped at him. Ron widened his eyes, but clamped his mouth shut.

"Erm…guys?" Harry said. "Er…I'll go and ask, shall I? You can stay here, I need to go get something upstairs anyway…"

They didn't reply, so Harry set off out of the Great Hall. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he nearly ran into a befuddled Percy, hurrying in to meet his family. Relief washed over Harry, but he didn't pay attention to him yet. He had other things to get to.

Harry continued his way to his old Divination classroom. In reality, he didn't need to retrieve anything. He didn't even have his suitcase with him here at Hogwarts. He just wanted to get away from the two of them bickering. But now that he thought of it…with him gone, what would they get up to? More snogging? He would be cast like an outsider from them…or maybe he wouldn't. They were his friends, and they wouldn't just ignore him forever. He just had to accept that, like how Ron had accepted him and Ginny.

With that in mind, Harry trudged up towards Trelawney's classroom.

**A/N: Phew! Long chappie, this one. The next two are like, half of it I reckon.**

**Will update in a few!**

**Toodles for now XD**


	2. Answers

**A/N: Next chappie up! Well, it's quite short, but oh well.**

Harry climbed up through the trapdoor, into the stuffy, warm, room, which smelled of the infamous sherry. Right away, he saw Professor Trelawney hunched in a chair, gazing at a crystal ball in front of her, peering into its foggy substance. Her hair was wild, as usual, her eyes, wide and round like a crazy, oversized owl, and she gave an air of madness that suggested someone take her to the mental asylum.

She looked up. "Ah…Harry Potter… The Inner Eye has foreseen you would be visiting me," she whispered. "What is it now? You are meddling with bad luck, you are…the grim, the weasel…all signs of misfortune…"

Harry fought an urge to roll his eyes. He got straight to the point.

"Professor, why did you give Fred the Draught of the Living Death?"

"What, the-living-dead?" Professor Trelawney snapped. Then she regained her composure. "Yes…among us, many zombies walk the surface of this Earth…what with the Dark Lord's uses of Inferi—"

"—No, no, no. The Draught of the Living Death. The potion?" Harry looked at her expectantly.

"Potion?" Professor Trelawney asked, her gaze turning scornful. "If you haven't come up to my sacred quarters to ask about Divination, foreseeing the future, and the art of palm reading, then why do you come to ask about Potions? Go to Professor Slughorn if you want to know more about that form of _cooking_." And she turned back to her crystal ball, peering into its glassy surface again; looking slightly flushed which betrayed her look of deep concentration.

Harry stood there for a moment, before deciding to leave it at that. Professor Trelawney wasn't one to lie. She would more likely boast about her accomplishments.

As he lowered himself from the Divination towers and continued on his way back to the Great Hall, Harry found himself wondering…if there were one person who might have the answers…the one who _always_ had the answers, who had been planning everything from start to finish…

He changed routes. Instead of returning to his friends, Harry took the path up to the headmaster's office, though there was no current headmaster now. He reached the stone gargoyle, and spoke the password: _Dumbledore_. It sprang aside, and Harry hurried into the so familiar office that had once been a place of comfort, of discussion, of answers. He was about the get some more answers now, no matter what.

Dumbledore was sleeping peacefully, and the other portraits were too, until Harry came rushing in. They mumbled irritably, and Harry caught phrases of 'bursting in at this time of day', 'no respect', and from a certain Phineas Nigellus, 'thinks he's higher than all the others'.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry whispered at first to the portrait. Dumbledore awoke straight away, his blue eyes piercing Harry once more. Harry suspected that Dumbledore hadn't been sleeping, but had been awaiting him. He banished that thought away.

"Ah…Harry, what can I do for you at this…late hour?" he asked politely, sitting up straighter and adjusting his half-moon glasses.

"Well…sir…see, I…" he took a deep breath, then relayed the story to Dumbledore, who sat still and listened with soft courtesy, nodding as if this were a normal fairy tale story.

"Professor?" Harry asked when he was finished at last. "Er…who d'you think gave Fred the potion? Well, obviously, Professor Trelawney gave it, but why didn't she admit it then?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I see you have noticed that Professor Trelawney wouldn't have kept it a secret, but rather would have boasted about it?"

Harry nodded.

"My dear boy, it was indeed Sybil Trelawney who gave Fred the concoction…but then again, it wasn't on her own accord." He paused, waiting patiently as Harry's jaw dropped open.

"What do you mean, sir? She was Imperiused or something?" Harry eyed Dumbledore skeptically.

"Well, in a matter of speaking, yes. She _was _Imperiused."

"WHAT? Who Imperiused her? Isn't that illegal?"

Dumbledore sat still, waiting for Harry to stop so he could continue. When Harry finished gaping and the initial shock had passed through, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Even sometimes…we may have to do something bad…something evil, for the greater good," he replied softly. Harry remembered having used the Imperius before. Not to the mention the Cruciatus, just hours previously.

He did not answer, so Dumbledore continued.

"Two weeks earlier, Professor Trelawney entered this office, once again complaining about her salary. Of course, Professor Snape was headmaster, and she showed little respect for him, which was to be understood."

Harry still didn't reply. He didn't utter a sound. Snape again, who seemed to have intertwined himself in everything that had happened in the last decade or so.

"Just as they were…talking, Professor Trelawney made her third, true, prophecy. To Professor Snape. But of course, we all heard it in here."

Harry stared. "Professor Trelawney made another prophecy? What did it say? Was it about me?" He grimaced. He did not want to be the person to vanquish some Dark wizard again. Once was enough to last a lifetime.

Dumbledore chuckled. "With the downfall of Voldemort, Harry, your name will not be the subject of every prophecy now."

Harry felt colour rise to his cheeks. Dumbledore looked at him expectantly. A moment's silence passed, and Dumbledore sighed.

"Professor Trelawney's third true prophecy foretold something to us… You can take out the Pensieve if you like, Harry. It's in there somewhere…the memory of course."

Harry turned to the desk.

There it sat, where he had left it before, with its runes etched into the stone basin. Silver memories swirled serenely inside it. He took out his newly fixed wand, and poked the substance, neither liquid, nor gas. Immediately, a figure of Professor Trelawney rose up, revolving slowly on the spot.

"Severus! I want a salary increase! Otherwise, I will choose to seek my talents in the future elsewhere—" the figure stopped speaking for a moment, before opening its mouth once more, and rasping in that voice that Harry remembered so well, four years ago.

_With the Dark Lord's return, and renewed, his followers_

_The family of the weasel, bad luck, shall prosper_

_The elder of the identical, the fourth, of the seven_

_Shall die, in the sight, of a descendant of Evans_

_The only cure thus, for such a sudden death_

_Would be to forge him to sleeping, stop heartbeat, and breath_

_A draught, this time, contrary to normal_

_Will react with an antidote, to joke, so informal_

_His death by the hands of a Dark Lord's follower_

_Can be finally undone and joy shall prosper_

The figure of Trelawney sunk back down into the sea of memories as Harry turned back to Dumbledore. Harry somehow still got himself mentioned as the 'descendant of Evans'. Why did he have to be involved in everything?

Dumbledore looked at Harry wearily. "Professor Snape and I had no idea what would happen, although of course, I had a few theories that a certain Frederick Weasley would die, had he not received a bottle of the Draught of the Living Death." The Dumbledore in the portrait stood up, pacing around in his frame. "She said that its effects wouldn't be instantaneous, but would 'do something different'."

He stopped pacing, and sat down once again, his blue eyes sparkling. "But concerning Professor Trelawney's previous two prophecies and their correct predictions, we decided to…give it a try. "

Harry could see it all now. Snape brewing the Draught, the smoke engulfing him. Bottling the concoction, and Imperiusing Trelawney to walk straight into Fred and offer him a bottle of her sherry. Harry let out a hollow laugh inside his head. Of course. Once again, Dumbledore had planned everything. It was to be expected.

He looked up to meet Dumbledore's gaze, and again, the headmaster's eyes gave him the feeling of being x-rayed.

"Why? Professor?" he wondered aloud. For a moment, Harry thought that Dumbledore wouldn't understand what he had meant. And for a second, he saw the old man, truly, behind the wise face that had helped him traverse through this long journey.

Dumbledore, looking wearer than Harry had ever seen him, replied, "Because when given a chance to preserve a life, it should be taken…and because…" he sighed, gazing into his lap.

Dumbledore looked up. "I could not bear to see the Weasley twins separated. I don't want Molly to have to go through another Fabian and Gideon Prewett."

Harry recalled Mad-Eye Moody telling him how these two died. And now, he understood why the twins were named Fred and George. Their namesakes, called after their uncles who had perished under the hands of Voldemort.

"A second time", Mrs. Weasley had said. Now Harry finally understood. And as he watched the Dumbledore in the portrait, Harry knew that this old man would understand better than anyone that families were not meant to be separated.

A tear seeped from one of the headmaster's eyes, trickling down gently into his silver beard.

**A/N: If you guys have any queries, please don't hesitate to ask in a review, but make sure that I can get back to you. Sign in, and then review, so I can actually have someone to reply to!**

**Of course, you don't have to sign in to review, but I always reply to them, so it'd be nice if you give me some way to reply back! (Don't put emails, ff doesn't allow them! Put them in this format: blahblah at hotmail dot com)**


	3. Apilogue

**A/N: Erm…excuse the title. Epilogue. I just wanted them to all begin with A's.**

_**19 Months Later**_

"Aren't they like, marrying their own cousins?" Ron asked, his eyes as wide as golf balls.

"RON! Don't…don't _say that_!" Hermione squealed, punching his arm.

Ron winced. "Don't blame _me_. I mean, honestly. The Delacours are related to the Weasleys, via Bill and Fleur, and the Weasleys are related to the Blacks, and the Blacks are family to the Malfoys…that means…INCEST!"

Ron spun around to stare at them. "You guys! Didn't you hear me? It's _incest_! Isn't that sick?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, we heard you very well, Ronald. But they're such far cousins…so I guess it's all right. Plus, the Delacours and Weasleys are only related by marriage…"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. They were bickering like an old married couple again. Well…they _were_ married, so he guessed it was okay. He turned to see Ginny, chatting animatedly with Gabrielle, Fleur's sister, whilst Draco went to get his new wife drinks.

Who would've thought that out of all people, Draco Malfoy would choose Gabrielle Delacour? And that they would tie-the-knot? But Harry guessed that they _were_ suitable candidates for each other, both rich and wealthy, both quite…aloof. And it was well known that Draco was good looking. Not that Harry thought so of course. But many girls would swoon over him as he used to walk through the Ministry. Only not Hermione and Ginny. They had eyes only for Ron and him. Gabrielle was part veela, so of course, the beauty thing was over-the-top. That was all very well, for Draco seemed to like the glamour and valor. Harry couldn't imagine him marrying _Pansy Parkinson_. Plus, both had silvery blonde hair as well. A perfect match.

He wondered what their children would turn out like. Definitely blonde, that was for sure. Part veela too…Harry glanced around the party after the wedding. They were, this time, in France, for the Delacours had insisted on holding the wedding there. Everyone agreed to the idea, for not all forgave the Malfoys yet, so Malfoy Manor wasn't that likely a place to hold such a happy ceremony.

Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco had wormed their way out of things as usual. They weren't the brave, noble Gryffindors, obviously, but they didn't consort with the worst of the Dark Arts now anyways. Harry knew that deep down; Draco Malfoy wouldn't have killed Dumbledore that night. He had seen that flicker of hesitation, and his wand shaking, and finally lowering… Obviously Harry wasn't going to go be best buddies with him. They had too much to hold against one another.

"Oh, there he is," said Ron scathingly. "Look at him, bowing and asking Gabrielle for a dance…stupid git."

"Ron!"

"Sorry, Hermione. I mean, just would you _look_ at him?"

"Hermione only has eyes for you, mate," Harry joined in the conversation.

Ron pretended to look annoyed, but failed. He couldn't hide his smile, and Hermione blushed scarlet.

The song changed to fast, and the tune of The Weird Sisters' new song blasted out, blazing into the night. The newlyweds had disappeared into the crowd, but Harry thought he glimpsed some silvery blonde hair, twirling in strands that caught the moonlight. Ron and Hermione had gone off to the dance floor as well, and Harry was left by himself, sipping his butterbeer contently.

"Harry," a voice said, followed with a flowery scent. He turned around to see Ginny's brown eyes, gazing at him happily.

"Oh, Ginny. Hi. I was just—"

"Spare me the frivolities, Potter, and scoot." She nudged him. He smiled, and gave into her charm. Ginny Weasley's hair rivaled the Gabrielle's cool tone. Her fiery red gave her the signature Weasley look.

Ginny slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his shoulder, watching the dancing people, moving madly to the beat. Couples could be seen, shaking their bodies along with the music, running their hands through each other's hair, grinding—

"Oh god, do they _need_ to make such a scene? We need some peace here people."

"I agree completely, Fred. We're already sick enough from drinking too much"—_hic_—"of the drinks…no need for them to"—_hic_—"make us more sick…"

Two silhouttes, one supporting the other, stumbled around to find a seat.

"Oh, _George_. What did those part-veela friends of theirs give you to drink?" Fred's shape emerged from the shadows, half-carrying his drunken twin brother.

George looked around clumsily, frowning as if to remember. "Not much. Just a couple of firewhis"—_hic_—"keys and some other sweet stuff…" George stared drowsily at Fred, and then his face broke into a smile.

Fred rolled his eyes. "And you tell me I always get drunk."

They flopped into the chairs next to Harry, Fred panting from supporting his brother. George's head lolled, and he started to fall asleep. Anyone who had bothered to look at them would've noticed the peculiar position of the foursome, the first and fourth leaning on the inners' shoulders.

Fred sighed exasperatedly, and turned to Harry without waking George. "So, what's going on?"

Harry grinned. "Aw, nothing much. Ron just disappeared off with—"

"That lady-killer; never leaves us a pair to spare." He shook his head in mock sadness. Harry stifled a laugh.

Fred brightened. "Oh well, me and George found a couple of Fleur's part-veela friends. They're younger than her, but older than Gabrielle of course. Perfect ages I say. A particularly cute pair were talking to us too…then I went to get some drinks, came back, and found this loon," he pointed to his twin, who's mouth was hanging open slightly, "by himself, singing along to some random lyrics."

At that precise moment, the song ended, and Ron and Hermione stumbled out of the crowd, laughing.

"And then, will you believe it, he falls asleep right there in front of them!" Ron exclaimed, as Hermione burst into a fit of giggles.

Ron looked around and noticed the twins for the first time. He smiled. "Having a good time, Fred?"

His brother grimaced. "Er…not really? Considering him here," he poked George, who snorted, "is drooling on my shoulder. I mean, it takes him about two seconds to get the girl, and then once he's done, he cuts out all my options. So I have to take care of him…whilst all the veelas go off to find some other guys. Guess he's getting back at me for taking all of them at Bill and Fleur's wedding, huh?"

Ron had a funny look on his face, but Harry couldn't place what it was. Celestina Warbeck's warbly voice replaced the rock tune of The Weird Sisters, and her new song, _Brew Our Love_, echoed around the silent garden where the party was held. The moonlit sky sparkled with stars, and the small pond nearby shimmered and glistened with the midnight reflection. People were swaying to the music. The evening was romantic, and couples could be seen passing lovey-dovey eyes and complimenting each other with hugs and ki—

"You know what, Fred?" Ron spoke up suddenly, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "Why don't you go off to enjoy yourself? I'll take care of George."

The elder Weasley twin's mouth dropped open, and he gaped, for once, speechless.

"I mean, after all you've done for the Wizarding community, you deserve a well earned break."

"Me?" Fred choked out. "What have _I_ done? Apart from causing more laughs and pranking people?"

Ron rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, let's see. George and you, Order of Merlin, Second Class, for discovering the Forge Elixir. Named after you, and meaning to lie and forge death when exposed to explosions." He ticked them off with his fingers. "Helping in the Battle of Hogwarts, helping defeat the Dark side, standing alongside the Order of the Phoenix in times of need…"

"Yeah, but—what about George? He's drunk and—"

Then, out of nowhere, a stunningly beautiful girl appeared, as if from thin air. Instead of having the Delacours' blonde hair, she had the same length, but in a captivating midnight black. No wonder they didn't notice her approach. She blended in too well with the scenery and darkness.

"Frederick!" she exclaimed in a strong French accent. "How come you dizappeared? We were looking all over for you!" her gaze fell on George. "Oh…I zee. I shall tell Ora zat I 'ave not zeen either of you."

"Er…guys…this is Odette. One of…Gabrielle's friends," Fred introduced her. Harry noticed the gazes Hermione and Ginny were giving her for a moment, and he knew that next to a part-veela, they didn't feel exactly comfortable.

Fred seemed to notice too, for he at once asked Odette to the dance floor, disappearing inside the crowd. George was still sleeping, but now he was flopped onto two chairs, snoring gently.

"Don't worry," said Ginny. "Fred'll spare him some of the fun." She smiled crookedly.

"Blimey," Ron whispered. "If Odette and Ora are related, and they end up marrying Fred and George, then won't that be like, incest again—? OW!"

"RON! I told you! Stop saying that!" Hermione wacked him on the ear once more.

They continued to bicker, whilst Harry waited for the night to pass. He glanced around, and his eyes fell on Draco Malfoy, who was sat opposite Gabrielle, their hands intwined. For a moment, Draco's eyes looked passed his wife's shoulder, over to meet Harry with his steely grey gaze. For a moment, something passed between them, and for a moment, they came to an understanding.

Malfoy nodded lightly, and Harry returned it.

No need to hold a grudge. Everything was fine.

And as they say: _always forgive your enemies…nothing annoys them more._

**A/N: That last phrase was by Oscar Wilde. Tis true, though, innit?**

**Don't you think Draco/Gabrielle is cute? I just love them together. Then again, I ship nearly everything with Draco in it. Minus yaoi. Sorry yaoi lovers!**

**Teehee…Fred and George are so cute! Squeee! I just imagine them liking veela types and all…(giggles)**

**May do an Artemis Fowl at Hogwarts fic, entering Harry's fourth year after he gained magic in The Lost Colony (he was 14 going on 15). And might do a Twilight oneshot on Bella turning into a vampire et cetera, but I gotta read Eclipse first (hasn't come out yet where I come from). Then I have my own novel I'm working on…**

**But toodles for now, here's the end of another fanfic. I'll be back with more, promise!**

**porpierita**


End file.
